It's Always the Quiet Ones
by live.love.music
Summary: Though she doesn't talk, act out, or do anything different than the day before, she's the one I want to get to know. Out of the three-thousand peers, I want to be acquainted with her. Mitchie/Mikayla. Demi/Selena. Demena.
1. Chapter 1

**Not sure where this is going yet. I was just bored and had writers block for Don't Forget. So, um, let's get started shall we? Hope you guys don't find it a complete waste of time.**

It's Always the Quiet Ones.

Sometimes, I just watch. I just sit there in class, and I watch her. Her mannerisms. Her facial expressions. The way she studied the teachers and what they said, but never wrote anything down. Never said anything either. Never smiled. Never looked around the room, or at the door when someone walked in; like every other student does. She never sat anywhere else, but in the corner. No one sat by her, too afraid of what she would or wouldn't say.

She's in each and every one of my six classes. Two years in a row. Though she doesn't talk, act out, or do anything different than the day before, she's the one I want to get to know. Out of the three-thousand peers, I want to be acquainted with _her. _Today's that day. Yesterday, one of our teachers, Mr. Gregson, said we were changing seats. Students choice this semester. Everyone will move around the room to be with their friends, she'll stay where she is, unnoticed. Or so she'll think. Whilst the other sophomores are playing musical chairs trying to find the right seat, I'll swoop in next to her.

Mr. Gregson says the words we've been waiting for, and students rush to and fro. I sit there for a second, scoping out her general area, until someone ever-so-rudely asked me to move. So I get up and step aside, still looking at her. She has her head on her desk and I slowly pace to the back of the room. Sitting in the desk beside hers, she doesn't look up. I didn't expect her to.

As Mr. G begins his lesson for the period, she lifts her head from the desk, thinking no one would be anywhere near her. For the first time in two years, she looks at me. Complete head turn and everything. Her brown, naturally wavy, hair looks perfect even though she's been lying on it for fifteen minutes. We make eye contact, and hers show a genuine confusion.

"Hi. I'm Mikayla." I stick my hand out for her to shake, but all she does is flicker her eyes back and forth from my eyes to my hand. I ease my hand back to my lap. She turns her attention back to the white board. She may have ignored me now, but I've got five periods and a lunch hour to try again. I'm going to figure this girl out. Even if it takes me all semester to do it.

No luck talking in the last four periods. I'm going to approach her again right now. I've got my lunch, and I've got some conversation starters in my head. I see her sitting under a tree listening to her iPod. Just as I grew closer to her, she glanced up. "You mind if I sit here with you?" She looks back down and pulls out a notebook. I'll take that as a yes. She begins writing profusely while I take a seat on the grass, directly across from her. "Whatcha writin'?"

She ignores me and keeps her pen occupied. I tap her shoe twice to get her attention. She peered up at me, staying silent. I motion for her to take out her headphones and she does so. "What are you writing?"

"Stuff."

My eyebrow arches in confusion, "Like poetry? Songs? Stories? Notes?"

"Songs."

"Can I read it?" It's definitely a long shot, but it's worth it.

Phlegmatically, she replies, "No." She continues to write as I ask her my questions.

"I didn't catch your name...?"

"I didn't give it to you." She's a tough cookie. A tough, quiet, mysterious cookie.

"Can I have it? I know we've had the same schedules for two years now, and we've went to school together for even longer, but I still don't—"

"Mitchie."

"What?"

"My name. It's Mitchie."

"Mitchie... That's different. I like it." I compliment, smiling gently, too afraid to widen it as it might scare her into silence. Too late. She's quiet again. The bell rings and Mitchie gets up and leaves to our next class. "Mitchie..." I say to no one in particular, just the wind. In one lunch break, I've found out her name. I can only imagine how much longer it will take for me to get to know and befriend her.

**So, yeah. That's it for right now. I have some ideas for this that might work, so it's up to your guys' reviews to keep me fueled! haha**


	2. Chapter 2

**So you guys like? I'm glad! :D You guys are, like, the cooliest. ;)**

"Alright, so the first project of the new year and semester, kids. It's going to be partners. Since I trust you all so much, and you did well with picking your seats the other day, I'm letting you choose your own partner to work with." Yes! This is the perfect chance to get to know her. On Tuesday, the day after I met up with Mitchie at lunch, I sat there again. We didn't talk. Well, _I_ did. She sat there unamused and unemotional. I kept talking though. It's weird, because I normally don't talk _that_ much. I guess I'm just talking enough for the both of us. But anyways, I went to the tree she sits at, and she wasn't there. So I waited. And waited. _And waited._

She didn't show up Thursday either. Today's Friday and she's here. I'm going to ask her if she wants to be my partner. I turn to her and some guy walks up to her, "Hey, do you want to be my part—"

"She's mine! M—my partner. Sorry." The guy leaves and I ask, "Is it okay if we're partners?" She lifts her head and steadily turns to look at me, gently nods, the returns to her previous position with her head on her desk. She seems... down today. Although she has done nothing dissimilar, Mitchie seems a little out of it. Maybe she's sick. "Are you alright?" Mr. G is talking, but I know she can hear me. I turn my body ninety degrees, fully facing Mitchie. I put a hand to her shoulder and she slightly jumps at the touch. She stares at me, "You okay, Mitchie?"

"Yeah, fine." She stays sitting upright, but doesn't look at me the rest of class. In third period, however, she stares across the room at me the whole time. It sort of made me nervous. The unusual thing is that I liked it. I mean, I've _definitely_ been stared at, but it almost seemed like she was admiring me.

After class, I caught up with Mitchie. "Hey, wait up!" Of course, she doesn't stop, or slow down for that matter. I finally catch up to her. "So... what do you want to do our research project on?" She took no notice of me speaking, so I continued, "I was thinking about some topics like racism, the economy... Uh, that's all I could really think of so far." I chuckled as we walked into our fourth period, she just nodded absentmindedly.

"What happened to you the last couple days?" Gazing up at me, she shrugs.

"Why do you talk so much?"

"Why _don't you_ talk so much?" She gives me a half-smile. I only saw part of her grin and it was beautiful. I wonder what the whole thing looks like?

"I have nothing to say."

I tilt my head, reflecting her comment. "I say stuff _all_ the time, and you _still_ have nothing to say?"

"Basically."

I was just about to drop it when I realized, "You're avoiding the question."

"We don't even know each other, so why do you care?" The was some attitude, but I let it go since she's actually conversing with me.

"I—I don't know. You just... interest me."

"Why?" This time, _she_ tilts _her_ head.

"Because you do. Now, are you going to answer the question?"

"Um, my foster parents picked me up when lunch started on Wednesday." She's in foster care? Since when?

"Foster parents?"

"Yes, foster parents. Not everybody's real parents stick around you know."

All these years, I never knew that. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. They were deadbeats anyways. The only thing I gained from them is my music." You learn more and more each day.

"What do you play?"

"Piano and guitar. I sing too, but I'm not that good, so I mainly play."

"I'm sure you can sing. Can I hear one of your songs?" She seems like one of those people that would write the most meaningful and captivating lyrics.

"Maybe some other time. Without all these people around."

"Well, how about you come over to my house today, work on the project a little, then maybe you can show me?" Please say yes!

"Uhh... I don't know..."

"Oh c'mon! It's a good way to get to know one another! We—we can do stuff that friends do."

"We aren't friends, you just follow me around and ask a billion questions." Jeeze, I can see why she doesn't have friends to begin with.

"Ouch. That hurt. I know how you can make it up to me though... Come to my house after school." I throw in a super-cheesy, big, toothy grin.

"Fine. Only if you don't talk the rest of the lunch hour." Well that's going to be hard.

"Okay!" And with that, the bell rings, and Mitchie leaves. Always saved by the bell. Now, what're are we going to do after school? Oh! I know what we can do...


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to those of you who review, read, favor, and add to the 'Alert' list. You're awesome(:**

**Let's just dive right in.**

We'd been at my house for a while, an hour maybe, and she's seemed to have warmed up a bit. She's not completely comfortable, but she's getting there. She's even agreed to playing twenty questions. I was a little surprised when she said yes, but I quickly overcame that. We're in my room, both of us sitting on the bed. She's sitting up and cross-legged, while I'm laying on my back with my legs dangling over the edge, "Do you want to go first?" I ask.

"No." Well, I guess that means I go first. I'll start out easy.

"Have you lived here your whole life?"

"No, I moved here from Texas when I was nine. What's your favorite color?"

"Green. Always has been, always _will_ be. What's your favorite food?" She thinks for a second before smiling.

"Pickles." What?!

"No way! Me too! How great is that?" It _is_ pretty great. "You totally just earned points with me." I smile courageously.

"As if you hadn't liked me already?" Uh, liked? I mean, she's gorgeous, no doubt. But... _liked?_ Is she talking about like, like, or just like? Well, if I'm questioning it, doesn't that mean I like, like her? Maybe. I don't know. No, no. That's impossible, I've _always_ adored boys. I've had about eleven boyfriends. Only a few being serious of course, but still I'm only sixteen. I like boys. With muscles and short hair. Not lean with long, dark brown, phenomenal hair. Guys. With penises. No boobs or vagina's for me. Nope. "Mikayla, you look a little pale. You okay?"

She raises her hand as if to touch my face, but stops mid-air and drops it back down to her lap. "Uh... yeah. I'm perfect." She simpers and nods. "I'm just a little thirsty. You want anything?"

"No, thanks. I'm fine." I get up and head to the kitchen. Once I'm there, I jump up and sit atop the counter. She probably didn't even mean it in that way. I'm blowing things out of proportion. I was caught of guard, that's all. It's a simple as that. When I'm satisfied with my self-debate, I gab myself a bottle of water and saunter back into my room.

I see Mitchie looking at the pictures of friends, old boyfriends, and family on my one of my walls. She's staring intently at one with an ex and I when we were at the beach. We were in our swimsuits and we asked a passerby to take a snapshot of us. "He was always my favorite." Mitchie flinched and swiftly turned around. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

She doesn't say anything. She just continues to examine the photographs. "I've always sort of wondered..."

"Wondered what?" I asked taking a seat at my desk chair across the room.

"What being in a relationship is like. You know, a _real_ love affair. Someone to care for, who cares for you. Someone to make you laugh and smile. Someone you can tell anything to. Like having a best friend that you're intimate with." Wait, what? _She's _never been in a relationship before? I find that hard to believe.

"You've honestly never been with a guy?" She takes a second, before answering, to sit back down on the bed.

"Nope. But it's not because I've never been asked out, because I have been. I just choose to say no."

"Why? If you want a _love affair_ so bad, why say no?"

"See, _that_ is something I'm trying to figure out myself. It's just kind of like, I don't want to date just any-old-body. I want to date someone I connect with. On a personal level. Someone that shares the same interests as I do."

"What, being quiet all the time?"

She glares before speaking, "No. I already told you, I don't talk because I have nothing to say. I'm talking now because I have something to say. Get it? You talk a lot, but you really don't listen that much do you?" Not really. I have a tendency of zoning out. Are we still playing twenty questions? What happened to that?

"What happened to the game? Who's turn was it? Yours?" She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "What? What did I do?"

"Nothing. Nothing, at all. When's your birthday?"

"July twenty-second." I tell her as I stroll over to sit on my bed with her. "Have you ever had sex?" She winces at the question and shuffles her eyes.

"N—no." I guess she doesn't like that subject. "What kind of music are you into?"

I ponder for a second before answering, "Uh, I like everything, really." She nods, urging me to keep going. "What's it like being in foster care?" She frowns and I decide to choose a different question. "I—I mean, we have a piano in the den. Play me something?"

"Alright." When we get to the piano, I dust off the seat. Seeing as nobody plays it, it gets quite dusty. She sits on the bench and I sit next to her. Probably too close because Mitchie scoots over a bit more. "What do you want me to play?"

"Play what you were writing the other day."

"I don't know. It isn't finished."

She fiddles with the keys a little while I beg her, "Please?" I place my hand on her shoulder and she looks at me abruptly. "I'm sure it's great just the way it is."

"O—okay." She begins to produce a soft melody before beginning the lyrics,

"_I'm losing myself  
Trying to compete,  
with everyone else  
Instead of just being me  
I Don't know where to turn  
I've been stuck in this routine  
I need to change my ways  
Instead of always being weak"_

She said she can't sing. Well, she's obviously deaf, because she's so unbelievably amazing. I'm in awe. And she can play well too.

"_I don't wanna be afraid  
I wanna wake up feeling beautiful  
today  
And know that I'm okay  
Cause everyone's perfect in unusual ways  
You see, I just wanna believe in me  
La la la la  
__La la la la—_That's as far as I've gotten. I haven't had much time since that day to write."

"You're so beautiful... -y wonderful at singing! And writing and playing an—and everything!" Wow. I'm such an idiot. I can't believe I almost let that out there.

A soft smile curls her lips, "Thanks." Suddenly, I hear a ringtone blasting from what I'm assuming is Mitchie's cell.

_'Hate me today. Hate me tomorrow. Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you. Hate me—' _

"Crap!" Mitchie yells, jumping from the bench and rushing to my room. I follow, but much slower.

When I get there, she nearly in tears. "Mitchie? Are you alright? What's going on?" Mitchie looks up and shuts her phone briskly.

"Nothing. I have to go home or I'm going to be in a lot of trouble." She bushes past me, grabbing her bag on the way.

"I'll just call them an—"

"No. You don't know them. They don't care." She turns to look at me and I see a tear fall from her eye. "Thanks, but I have to go. I'll see you monday."

**So what's goin' down in Mitchie town? You'll just have to wait(: Reviews are always nice. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Again, guys, thanks for the reviews :) It's a three day weekend and I'm listening to Tay Swift, so I thought I'd write some.**

All weekend I had wondered what was going on with Mitchie and her family. I wanted to call her, but I don't know her number. I wanted to visit, but I also don't know her address. Talking to my parents about it didn't really help. They just said it was probably a family emergency. Well, _obviously._ I can't help but to be worried.

I'm in first period and Mitchie just walked in late. Mr. G asks where she's been. She hands him a pink slip and walks to the back of the room to her seat. She's just sitting there with a blank expression. "Mitchie?" She doesn't look at me, but she speaks.

"What?" She says it harshly, but hushed.

"What happened with you and your parents?" I ask a little louder than intended.

"They aren't my parents."

"No talking back there, girls." Mr. Gregson says in his soft-spoken voice.

"Sorry, Mr. G." I tell him and lower my voice,"_Okay,_ what happened with you and your _foster_ parents?"

"Nothing."

"Look, I know we've only been friends for a week, but—"

"Girls! If I have to tell you again, I'll assign you both lunch detention."

I just nod my head towards him and attempt to quite my self some more. "But, you can trust me. You can tell me anything."

She shakes her head franticly, "No, you can't trust anyone and I can't tell you anything. It will just mean mor—"

"That's it girls. Lunch detention! Both of you!" Damn it. Everyone turns to look at us and Mitchie just sinks down in her seat. Damn it some more.

She's mad. Fourth period is nearing an end, and she hasn't talked, or looked at me since the end of first. She's got a stone-cold look on her face and it kind of scares me. The bell rings for lunch and all of my peers rush to be the first out the door. I quickly shove my things into my bag and glance over in Mitchie's direction. Her bag fell on the floor and she scurries to retrieve her items. I walk over and pick up her pencil that tried to roll away. I hold the writing utensil out to her, wearing a smirk on my face.

"Pencil?"

She takes it, careful not to make physical contact. She quietly thanks me and heads for the door.

It's soundless in room K7. The room of detention. Here, they teachers are too busy to watch us like babysitters, so they put two cameras on the ceiling for the security guards to watch to make sure nothing is vandalized. After about five minutes, someone comes around to lock the door. It's just Mitchie and I today. Not surprising. There's hardly _ever_ anyone in this room.

I sat by Mitchie in one of the two-seated tables.

"Why won't you tell me what's bothering you?"

She waits quite a few seconds before saying, "Because you don't need to know."

"Well, if we're going to be friends, I think we have to be honest with each other."

"Maybe we don't have to be friends then."

Wow. That kind of stung. A lot. I turn to face her, making eye contact. I'm sure she can see the hurt look on my face as she frowns.

"But I want to be friends with you." I say, whispering so low that I doubt she heard me.

I'm almost convinced she didn't when she doesn't speak for about twenty minutes, but she says something as quiet as I did that echoes in my head after she finishes. "M—uh, my foster parents—they, um... she hits me... and he—he rapes me. And it's my fault."

**Woooow. Super short, there'll be more up soon. Like, reaaaalll soooonn. Reviewsss(:**


	5. Chapter 5

**So, it's been like, what? A month and a half? Somethin' like that. I apologize for the long wait, guys. I have been extremely busy with school, but the good part is that spring break starts on the sixth this month! So, keep your eyes peeled for an update or two. (; Flashbacks in _italics_.**

It's been almost two months since Mitchie told me about her foster parents. I was sworn into secrecy to not tell a soul. I still haven't told anyone. I feel as though I should, but I want her friendship and trust more than anything.

"_You know, I'm really glad you can talk to me about this, Mitchie. It means a lot."_

"_It means that I can trust you. I've never had a friend that I can trust like you." She gives a gentle smile. _

The fond memory brings a small grin to my face. It quickly diminishes when I think about what kind of sick people would do that to her. An innocent, fragile sixteen-year-old girl. She doesn't like to talk about it, but I know it breaks her down sometimes.

And when she tells me it's her fault, I could just... I could go off on her foster parents for making her believe such a thing. She does nothing wrong. _Nothing._ She's the perfect person.

Speaking of the perfect person, she's call now. Oh yeah, we exchanged numbers finally.

"_So, do you think—maybe—I can call you sometime? I mean, I have no way of getting ahold of you, and I don't know where—"_

_She cuts me off with, "Yeah, it's fine. Hand me your phone, I'll put my number in there."_

_I hand Mitchie my phone and she puts the number in. "I'll call you tonight? Make sure you got home alright and everything..." _

"_Yeah, sounds good." A coy smirk is all she gives before leaving my house._

I answer my phone and Mitchie tells me that she's at the front door. I open it and pull her inside and out of the cold weather. She greets me with a small 'Hey.' before I drag her up to my room.

She's reasonably less stiff now. She even kicks off her shoes in the middle of the room and sprawls herself across my bed like I do. "So, what brings you by on this fine saturday afternoon?"

She chuckles, "You're such a dork."

"No, really. Not that I don't mind your company, because I do. I'm just curious." I say, sitting on my desk chair. She looks down, then back up with tears forming. I immediately rush over to her and sit by her side, gently rubbing her back. "Mitch, what's wrong?"

"I don't want them to be mad. I had to leave, they kept bashing them!"

"What would they get mad at?" I dip my head down to try to meet her eyes. "Who were they bashing?"

She hesitates before saying, "I—they don't like gays, Mikayla."

I'm puzzled for a moment until I realize what she's trying to tell me. "Oh, Mitchie. I'm so sorry. C'mere."

She gets up and I pull her into a tight embrace. She grips me tightly, as if not wanting to let go. Somehow, if that happened, I don't think I'd mind. Her tears are nearing an end, and I hear her sniffling. "I'm sorry you always have to see me like this. Crying and a mess. I just—I don't have anyone else."

"It's okay. Really. And you aren't a mess. Just a girl with feelings." I grab her hand and pull her up off the bed. "C'mon, we'll watch a movie. What's your favorite?"

"I don't have a favorite. I don't really watch movies all that often."

"How do you not have a favorite movie? We'll just watch The Notebook then." She sits on the couch while I put the DVD in.

"What's The Notebook?" She asks, genuinely curious.

"My goodness, have you been living under a rock? It's only the best movie ever!"

The lone tear streams down my face as the credits begin to roll. Mitchie's head is in my lap and I notice she's asleep. It's only five, so I'm sure she's just exhausted. I gradually lift her head, careful not to wake her. I slip out from underneath her and make for the restroom.

When I return to the living room, she's still laying down, but now her eyes are opening. "Where'd you go?" She whispers.

"I had to use the bathroom," I say, sitting on the coffee table in front of her. "You can stay for dinner if you want. My parents should be back soon from their 'day out'."

She smiles and nods her head. "Lay with me until then?"

I comply and she sits up for me to lie beneath her. When I do, she snuggles up to the side of me. After a few minutes, her breathing steadies and I assume she's asleep. That's until she places the softest kiss on my neck. I can't help but grin from ear to ear.

I may be wrong, but I think Mitchie might have a crush on me.

**Okay guys, let me have it. Oh, and isn't 'Behind Enemy Lines' just great? I love you guys and your reviews (:**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, fellow readers! I come bearing gifts! Like... an update... and... virtual hand-sanitized-fives (nobody wants swine flu/H1N1, do we?) to all of those reviewers! :D**

"_Please,_ Mitchie?" I beg, "Please?"

"No. I don't want you anywhere near them. They're not nice people, Mikayla."

I really wanted to go over to Mitchie's house, see her in her element, but she won't let me. She won't let me walk her home from school. "Come on, I just want to see!"

"See what? An abusive drunken woman and her perverted rapist husband? I don't think so." I hung my head in shame, not knowing what else to do. How could I argue with that? "I don't even want them knowing your name," she says angrily, "I sure as hell don't want you in the same room as them."

"We can go in a different room...?" I ask hesitantly.

She glares and sternly says, "You know what I mean."

I sigh, "Please, Mitch. Please? Please, please, please! You've been to my house, it's only fair that I go to yours!"

She rolls her eyes and looks away, "Fine, but you can't let them know that you know. It will only make things worse. And make sure you look them in the eye if you talk to them. They like that."

We're a few houses down from hers, and I'm growing more and more nervous. What if they don't like me and Mitchie has to deal with it later? What if they find out I know? What if I forget to look them in the eye? What if—

"We're here, act natural," she whispers, nudging my side with her elbow. She opens the door and allows me to step inside first. Wow, it looks heavenly in here. And it smells like happy. And cookies. I'd never think these people... well, do what they do to Mitch. It seems so warm and homely in here. "Dad, I'm home!"

All the blinds are open, and the sun shines in, illuminating their paintings and sculptures everywhere. They certainly are well-off. After following Mitchie down a hallway, I hear who I assume is her 'father', "Mitchie! You better—"

Before he could finish, Mitchie intervenes, "I brought a friend home, Dad!"

We reach a room, probably Mitchie's, as it grows silent. It's _huge_ in here! It's like _two_ of my rooms! I take a look around and come to see that the walls are practically bare. I keep my eyes moving and notice that the rest of the room is very plain as well. Humble abode definitely needs some T.L.C.. She tells me to set my bag down by the desk in the corner. I do so, and I see a man appear in the doorway.

Tall, pale-skinned, dark brown and combed hair. He's wearing a fancy business suit. He looks like quite the family-man. "Oh—there you are! Who's your friend, Mitchie?"

Mitchie turns facing him, "Dad, this—this is my friend, Mikayla." I remember to look him in the eye while shaking his hand.

"Always nice to meet a friend of Mitchie's."

I smile brightly, "It's nice to meet you too, Mister..."

"James. Maxwell James. You can just call me Max." He grins very widely, semi-creeping me out.

"Right, Max." After standing there awkwardly, he tells us that he's going back to work (I guess he was on his lunch break), and he'll be pulling an all-nighter to finish up some advertisement he's working on. Once he leaves, she closes her bedroom door and flops down on her bed. "So, your dad puts up a nice façade."

She groans, "He's not my dad. I hate him."

Confusion etched across my face, "Then why do you—"

"He makes me call him dad. Trust me, I wouldn't do it willingly."

Before long, I ask, "So, where's your _foster_ mom?"

She rolls onto her stomach, facing me, "Eh, I think she's still at work... Or maybe a bar? I don't know."

Silence fills the room, and I take the chance to further examine the room. There's a black grand piano off to the side. Maybe she'll pay for me. I look down at Mitchie, her eyes are closed. I whisper, "Mitchie..." She mumbles and grumbles before pulling me down, level with her.

Her eyes are still closed, mine open and watching her. Her eyebrow twitches and she sighs audibly, "I'm so tired. And bored. I hate Spring Break."

I gasp loudly, "How do hate Spring Break? It _just_ started today."

She shrugs, "Where are all of your other friends?" Well, that was random.

"I've sort of drifted from them. I've been spending most of my time with you."

Mitchie has a guilt-ridden look on her face, "I'm sorry. You don't have to hang out with me, you know. I've gotten used to being alone."

I reach for her hand and lace our fingers together. Softly, I tell her, "You better get unused to it because I like to spend time with you. You're way more interesting than everyone else anyway."

She smiles and in her eyes, I see a something I've never seen with her.

**It's short, yes, but it's also Sunday, and I should be cleaning my room. Hope you enjoyed! Oh, and if you haven't already, check out the sequel to _Don't Forget_! It's called _In Time_. Leave your thoughts and opinions. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter seven has _arrived_. So without further ado, enjoy!**

It's the first saturday of Spring Break and we've been sitting on Mitchie's bed all afternoon. We've done everything from watching movies to playing cards to spying on her hot next door neighbor. It's almost seven-thirty and I have a proposal for Mitchie. "Hey, Mitch?"

She looks up from the magazine currently holding her attention, "Huh?"

"I—I don't know if your foster parents would go for it, but, well, maybe they would. I don't know, I was thinking, maybe—"

"Spit it out already!" She exclaims, putting a hand on my knee. I peer at her hands. She has perfectly manicured nails. The tips of her fingers are calloused, hardened and worn from the friction of guitar and piano practice.

I gently entwine my fingers with hers. Quietly, I bid, "Stay over at my house with me?" She smiles, but doesn't speak. I add, "You don't have to stay here alone, _and_ I'd feel better about going home if you were coming with me."

"Let's go ask." She replies pulling me up off the bed with her.

I stop abruptly, our hands still linked and causing her to stop too. "Let's as in contraction for _let us_? Me and you?"

She's skeptically staring, "Yeah... they'd say no if you didn't go with me. Now, c'mon, before Katherine starts Happy Hour in the living room."

I was here yesterday after school and I've been here all day today and I still haven't met her foster mother, Katherine. I assume she's just _the bee's knees._ Just like her pervy, sick, and demented husband. Fucking sick bas—oh, we're in the living room already.

We're standing awkwardly at the foot of the couch where her parents are sitting. They have a tray filled with bottles of hard-liquor and two shot glasses. Mitchie clears her throat and greets them, "Mom, Dad." They turn to look at us. "Mom, this is Mikayla. She—we, um—were wondering if I could stay at her place tonight?"

Her Botox-looking face scrunches up, looking at me. I remember Mitchie's advice and look her in the eyes. I see her eyes are bloodshot, she's already drunk. Her eyes move from my face to Mitchie and I's clasped hands. Mitchie let's go immediately. "Absolutely not." Katherine says then suddenly starts laughing hysterically.

Max joins in, "Oh, Kat! That was a good one!" They high-five. "Yeah, sure, Sweetie, you can go." Mitchie visibly twitches at the pet name.

"Thanks! I'll call to check in tomorrow!" She says before dragging me back to her room.

"Not too early!" We hear Katherine yell, "You know I don't get up before one on Sundays!"

Mitchie packs and overnight bag and we leave as soon as possible.

--

Mitchie and I have become a lot closer these past few months. Ever since we did the school project, we've basically been attached at the hip. My parents are already calling her 'a part of the family'. She's at my house all the time, but she's never stayed the night. Her foster parents don't seem like the type to say yes, so I never asked.

I _still _have this hunch that she likes me. The subtle glances, the wanting to snuggle and cuddle all the time, the small shy smile she gives me... this list goes on. And not to mention the hand-holding. There's been a lot of that lately. Not that I mind. I've always enjoyed my hands being warm.

We've been at my house for a total of six minutes. "I'm hungry." I state blankly. "You hungry? I'm hungry."

Mitchie chuckles softly, "Yeah, I'm hungry too."

I stand up, point to the front door, deepen my voice and say, "To Mickey D's!"

--

Good thing there's a McDonald's near my house, otherwise, Mitchie would've had to carry me there. The next closest one is a quite a few blocks away and I can't find my license to drive.

I open the door and let Mitchie walk in first. She smiles at me. It's pretty empty in here. There's a few people, scattered from table to table, unamused and lonely. We get in line there's two people in front of us. An elder lady, who's ordering, and a scruffy, mid-forties—just guessing—man. The lady gets her food and walks off to her table.

While the scruffy guy orders, Mitchie starts talking, "I'm glad Maxwell and Katherine were drunk enough to let me come with you tonight." She leans her head against my shoulder.

"Yeah, me too. Who gets drunk before nine o'clock? I mean, not that I _know_ what time is too early—"

"Actually, _no _time is _too_ early for them. Especially for Katherine. She even takes her aspirin with alcohol. She's definitely not the brightest bulb." I giggle with Mitchie as we step up to the counter.

Taking our order is a geeky guy. Glasses, acne, braces, the whole nine-yards. "Hi, ladies. I'm Earnest, what can I get for you?" Mitchie and I place our order, "That'll be eleven-eighty-three, ladies."

Simultaneously, Mitchie and I pull out money to pay. "I got it." I tell her, urging her to put her money away.

I give the bills to Earnest and Mitchie gives me that shy smile I've grown to love, "Thanks."

We step off to the side to wait for our food. The man who was in front of us is still waiting a few steps away. He's staring at Mitchie and I like we're pieces of meat ready to be devoured. Mitch didn't seem to notice, but I did and it made me slightly uncomfortable.

I caught his eye and protectively wrapped an arm around Mitchie's waist, pulling her body closer to mine. I left my arm there, hopefully to portray to him, _Don't try anything funny._ Mitchie just looked at me, her brown orbs full of wonder and curiosity. I just looked straight ahead, growing impatient for our food.

I get the gist that the man is impatient too, seeing as he demanded a refund and left in a hurry. Finally, I thought he would just continue to ogle us like a creeper. "What was that all about?"

I pull my arm from around her waist and grab our food. She picks a table and leads us to it. "What was what about?" I hand Mitchie her food and set the tray aside.

She raises an eyebrow, "The whole wrap-your-arm-around-me-and-stare-at-that-man ordeal."

"Oh,_ that._" I take a sip of my drink, "That guy was a creep. I was just letting him know not to try anything."

"Oh, because a hundred and twenty-five pound, dainty, sixteen-year-old girl is threatening. I _completely_ forgot."

"Ha-ha. Very funny."

She smirks and shakes her head, "I thought so."

--

Mitchie and I are now sitting in the den, having been back from our fast food run for a while now. She has my dad's guitar and is plucking random strings. "Play me something, yes? Yes."

"_Well_, I've been working on this song..."

"Ooh, I already like where this is going! What's it about?"

She places her fingers along the fretboard in precise places. "It's about falling in love and not wanting to at first—but then—you just can't help it, and you give in." She begins strumming and softly began.

"_And I feel, I feel a deep connection.  
And I think, that we might be onto somethin', no.  
And I know it's somethin' special,  
seein' you here, is not coincidental, mhmm._

_Well, I've been walkin',  
behind enemy lines.  
And I've been fightin', fightin'  
from the other side.  
I've been sayin',  
I won't fall this time.  
But now I'm walkin'  
within enemy lines._

_See I was tryin' to be,  
everything you weren't expectin'.  
All I ever wanted was,  
to try and keep you guessin'.  
But I've fallen way too fast,  
I just want this love to last,  
__forever._"

I can't keep the grin from my lips as I watch her.

"_And every time I feel this way,  
Oh, somethin's changed,  
for the better."_

She repeats the chorus a few more times before coming to a finish. "Did you like it?" I take the guitar from her and carefully set it back on the stand next to me. "You didn't like it, huh? It's a work in progress. I just—"

Mitchie stops talking once I grab her by her v-neck and crash my lips into hers. I pulled away after a few seconds and gave her a light peck, "I loved it."

**Did you like? Yes/Yes? Please, leave those thoughts (the ones that are floating around in your noggin right now) with me, whaddaya say? (:  
Oh! And obviously, the song is Behind Enemy Lines by Demi Lovato herself.**


	8. Chapter 8

**It seems as though most of you were thoroughly pleased with my last chapter, so I bring you a new one! Hot off the press! Enjoy.**

A few months ago, if someone would have told me that I'd kiss Mitchie, I'd say they were crazy. Yet, here I am, pulling away from her soft and tempting lips. She's wearing a shy smile as her gorgeous brown eyes meet mine. "I—I... Wow." She raises her hand slowly to her lips, lightly traces them with careful fingers.

I watch her with attentive eyes as thoughts rush through my mind. _Does this make me gay? Do I love her?_ I know that I'm attracted to her, that's for sure. I really like her as a friend. She's the only girl I've kissed, so maybe I'm... gay for her? I don't know. _What does this mean? Does she even like me? Was I wrong to kiss her? _The best thing to do is probably talk about it. "Um, Mitchie?"

Her staring contest with the air comes to an end as her eyes whip to mine. "Y—yeah?"

"Let's go to my room, I don't know if my parents are still awake."

She sits on my bed, timid and unsure of what to do. I place myself next to her, folding my legs 'indian style' and facing her side. I take her hand between both of mine; this catches her attention. "Mitch? Do you... have anything to say?"

I stare at expectantly before I hear and almost inaudible whisper, "You kissed me."

"Well, yeah... I did. Would you rather me not have?" I was sort of afraid of her answer. I don't want her to regret it.

"N—no. I—uh, I liked it." She looks at me and smiles.

I feel my own lips curl up to match hers. "Look, Mitchie, I like you. I don't know how, or when, but somewhere between a few months ago and now, I've crossed that 'I admire your friendship' line over to the 'I admire you' side. I don't know if you like me too, and you don't have to, but I want to try this out. I don't even know if I'm gay, or bisexual, or what. I just—"

I was cut off my Mitchie's lips. Slow and inviting, they captivated me. She rests a hand on my cheek, holding me in place. I can feel the goose bumps forming on my arms. The temperature of my body rises rapidly and I feel the need to strip from my clothing. Grabbing the back of Mitchie's neck, I try to bring her closer to me, wanting to feel her body pressed to mine. I unfold my legs and she climbs onto my lap. I move one hand to her waist and the other, well, a little lower than her waist.

Mitchie's tongue runs along my bottom lip and I open my mouth. Her tongue is hot and wet when it caresses mine. I instantly moan, not able to control myself any longer. I squeeze Mitchie's side. She gasps, flinches, and pulls away.

"What's wrong?" She looks away from me, but I can see the tears building. I lift her shirt gently, fearful of what I might find. I see a purple and black bruise, about the size of my hand. "Oh, Mitch. I'm so sorry." I carefully pull her to me, resting my head against her chest and hers head onto of mine.

"I don't know why they do this to me." She tells me between sobs. "I have straight A's. I've never been in trouble. I've never told anyone about their... problems. They say it's all my fault. I just—I can't live like this anymore."

I can feel her breathing heavily and her body shake from crying. "Mitch, you have to calm down, you'll make yourself sick. We'll fix all this, I promise you. You don't deserve what they do. You're perfect and they're—_ugh_! We'll just tell my parents. They'll know what—"

"No. You can't tell them, Mikayla."

"But—"

"No! Promise me you won't tell them."

I look into her chocolate-brown orbs and see worry etched in them. I want to relieve her of her worries and fears, so I agreed. "Okay."

As I laid in bed, I thought about how I could get Mitchie out of the situation her birth parents put her in. I feel terrible that she lives with that pig and drunk. I guess the bruise she has is the first in a few months. They've been working many long-hours and pulling all-nighters, so I guess they haven't been home much. Maxwell stayed at some woman's house and Katherine took it out on Mitchie a few days ago. I turned over and watched Mitchie's sleeping form. She looked truly peaceful. I wish I could help her be peaceful _all_ the time. I'd need some outside help, but she just _had_ to make me promise not to tell my parents.

Wait. I can't tell my _parents_. She didn't say anything about people who've helped others greatly everyday; the councilors at school.

**Bad news, it's significantly shorter than the other chapters, I know, but I've been sick since last weekend and super busy with finals this week.**** _But_, the good news is... school's out for the summer! Woo! Expect more soon! Leave thoughts if you'd like.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Please don't kill me! I'm back, I'm back! **

**I'm stuck in a house with a slow ass desktop computer, and luckily, I brought my MacBook! So... I shall update for you lovelies. **

**I apologize for the wait, guys. I've been really _lazy_ lately.. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

It's all my fault. I shouldn't have done this. I shouldn't have said anything. I should've kept my promise to Mitchie. I should've kept my _damn_ mouth _shut_! Child Protection Services is taking her from Kat and Maxwell; taking her from _me._

I can't believe I did this. She hates me, I know it. Her foster parents are going to jail and she'll be whisked off to some other city, state, country. Hell, I don't know. All that I know is that she won't be here with me.

Just seeing that look in her eyes when they told her to pack her things, made me want to take it all back.

_We were going to the kitchen for a drink when we heard the doorbell ring. "Wonder who that could be? I got it!" She yells to Katherine and Maxwell. _

_She opens the door to a rather tall man in dark shades accompanied by much shorter woman. The woman was dressed for business and the man in police uniform, maybe they know Maxwell. "Miss Torres?"_

_Mitchie gives them a wary eye and I place my hand on her lower back, letting her know I'm there. "Who's asking?"_

_The man removes his sunglasses, holding out his hand he says, "My apologies, Miss. I'm Officer Lionel Jenkins, and this is Detective Charlotte Raymond. We're with Child Protection Services. Are Mr. and Mrs. James home?"_

_Yes! They came! Just then, Mitchie's foster parents came into the room. Maxwell spoke up first. "Mitchie, Honey, who are these people?" He approached us and placed his hand on her shoulder. Instantly, my hand slid from it's position on her back, to a light grip on her waist. _

"_Mr. James, step away from Miss Torres." Officer Jenkins took a step forward into the house, we all took a step back, Maxwell took more than one. "I have orders to take you both to the station." Mitchie and I turn around to watch the scene unfold. Katherine was trying to sneak out through the back. "Mrs. James, I wouldn't run if I were you." She curses under her breath and grimaces as she saunters back over, obviously drunk. _

_Officer Jenkins takes Max and Kat to his squad car. Detective Raymond turned to face us, "Mitchie, Sweetie, thanks to your friend over here, you're going to be taken care of from now on. Your parents are being taken into custody and you'll never have to see them again, okay?" Mitchie looks like she's about to breakdown any second, tears building, quivering lip. She nods solemnly anyway. "Go pack some over-night things for yourself while I take a look around. Can you do that for me?" She nods again and I lead Mitchie to her room._

"_How could you, Mikayla? How could you do this to me? You broke your promise. I trusted you and you lied to me!" I locked eyes with her. Her eyes portrayed disappointment. I had let her down. _

I haven't seen her in days. I haven't eaten, can't sleep. I feel terrible. Yes, I'm relieved she's away from those horrible people, but still, I didn't want her to be upset about it. They put her in a group home with other 'troubled' foster kids for the time being. She isn't allowed to talk to anyone outside the home for some reason.

Hearing my father's voice brings me from my thoughts, "Hey, Honey. Um..." Dad never really had a way of comforting people. He normally just brings my mom in. "I know Mitchie was a good friend of yours, but you did the right thing. And... even though you haven't seen her for a few days, just know that she's safe now—it's because of you that she is." He closes my bedroom door and sits on my desk chair, rolling it closer to me.

"I'm happy that she's okay now, but, I just—I don't want her to move away, Dad." I try blinking back my tears, I had shed enough for one day. Plus, I'm not sure what my dad would do if I started bawling right now. Probably self-combust just trying to figure out how to help. A meek smile formed onto my lips. He gives my knee a few soft pats.

Suddenly, Dad's eyes light up and he excuses himself quickly.

Hours later, both of my parents enter my room. Mom is the first to speak, "Mikayla, your father and I wanted to talk to you about something extremely important, okay? So, listen well." She gives a stern look before urging Dad to share.

"Well, Honey, we—we know you love Mitchie. She's a great girl, a great friend to you. You know we love her too. We love having her around the house." I nod, interested in where they were taking this. "She needs a good home, with a loving family, people who will be there for her." I quietly agree while he continues, "That's why your mom and I thought maybe—if it's okay with you—We'd become Mitchie's foster parents until she's eighteen."

Immediately, I jumped up and hugged them both. "You guys would do that?" They hugged back and I added, "Thank you _so_ much! This is going to mean so much to her... and me."

"Now, Mikayla, it's not going to be easy. It's going to be a few months, taking classes and tests and you'll have to clear out the spare bedroom, before she can move in." She smiles. "Oh, and starting tomorrow, she'll be allowed to have visitors. We'll take you if you want? You could tell her what we're going to do."

I grin as widely as the Cheshire Cat and thank them a hundred more times.

Mitchie doesn't know that I'm coming to see her today, I was going to surprise her. It's not like I have her number to call and tell her anyway. "Call me when you're ready to be picked up." Dad says before I get out of the car.

I stride to the door with a little more hop in my step. I'm _so_ excited to tell her. After a handful of knocks, a woman—not much older than my parents—answers. "Ahh, Hello!" She says merrily.

I offer a toothy smile. "Hi, I'm Mikayla. I'm here to see Mitchie."

She opens the door wider, allowing me to step in. It's a cute, homely place. "Well, Mikayla, I'm Anne." I shake her hand. "Mitchie's room is the second door on the left." I nod and thank her.

When I get to Mitchie's bedroom, I tap her white, wooden barrier before poking my head in. I look around, but she's nowhere to be seen. I step inside the small blue room. She must be in the bathroom or something. I take a look around, she's managed to fit most of her things from her old room into this one. For having as much stuff as she does, it's a very clean and organized room.

"Mikayla?" Her soft voice laced with curiosity.

"Surprise." I say biting my lip to keep from smiling. I'm not sure if she's still upset with me.

"What are you doing here?" She closes the door carefully.

"Well I—you can have visitors now. I wanted to come see you. And I come baring good news." I smile gently.

She comes forward and embraces me. I'm glad she did, I wasn't too sure of what to do. We haven't kissed since that night at my house, when I told her how I felt. We haven't really talked about it either.

Her grip loosens and she pulls back slightly. "It's really good to see you, Mik." She brings her voice down to a whisper, "I've missed you."

I reel her in for another hug, but before letting go, I impulsively kissed her cheek. She grins. "I—I missed you too."

She motions for me to sit down. She does so first and I follow suit. "You said you had good news?"

"Yeah, um, look, it's entirely up to you and all, but my parents—they said they want to become you're foster parents." I pause for a second, but she doesn't say anything. "You'd, uh... you wouldn't have to move in with some weird family that you don't know. And you wouldn't move cities or states. You'll have your own room too. I—I just thought you'd like the idea." She staring intently at me, silent. "What do you say? Will you move in with us... in a few months?"

She sat there in front of me, as still as a statue. It was quiet for some time before she spoke, "I.. don't know what to say."

**Once again, I'm so sorry for the long wait! But you know what they say... Absence makes the heart grow fonder. You love this story _more_ now, right? haha. Anyway, yesterday, Demi's WONDERFUL sophomore album came out, and I'm in love with every single song on it. And today is Selena's birthday! Parrrrtaaaay! :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**No, I'm not dead! Incase some of you were wondering... School started two weeks ago, so I've been tired (from waking up to a stupid alarm at 6:30) and just plain lazy. Shocking, I know. But tonight, I feel inspired. Let's get started!** **OH! And thank you for the reviews! :D**

As time had passed, Mom and Dad had to undergo many tests, meetings, classes, inspections, _and_ background checks just to make sure they would be suitable foster parents. Like they had said, it took quite a few months to complete everything.

While they were doing that, I was preparing the spare bedroom for Mitchie. I bought her—with my Dad's credit card, of course—a new bedspread and paint for her walls. Two walls are now red, two walls are remaining white. The bedspread I picked out is black and red, I remember her telling me those were her favorite colors. She had let me take some of her things a few days at a time for the room.

I had set everything up by myself. I wanted her to be proud at the hard work I put in to make _sure_ she felt at home and safe in her new room. I mean, she'll be living here for at least a year and a half. I want to make sure she's completely comfortable and at ease here in my house... in _our_ house.

Tomorrow will be her first day of living with us. To say I'm excited would be the biggest understatement of the century. I am _immensely ecstatic_ for Mitchie to be coming, it's not even funny anymore. Well, Mom and Dad think it's funny because, apparently, it's all I've been talking about lately.

Mitchie and I have definitely grown closer. She's still a little shy at times, but when I see her and when I depart from her, we kiss. Most of the time, it's just a little peck. But occasionally, when she doesn't want me to go yet, we have these passionate kisses; they're _incredible_. The make everything inside me tingle like nothing I've ever felt. It's the most amazing sensation. It leaves me wanting more and more. I don't know if _she_ knows what she's doing, but I don't want her to stop.

Mom and Dad don't know about us; that we're... romantically involved. We aren't girlfriends yet. At least, not to my knowledge. Unless there's this unspoken rule that claims we are. Anyway, they don't know and, honestly, I'm afraid to tell them. How would you act if you found out your only daughter was not only seeing a girl, _but_ seeing your new foster child?

I lay in my bed thinking about tomorrow. All that runs in my mind is _Will she like the way I set up her room? _or _What if she freaks out her first night here and doesn't want to be here anymore?_ or _Does she _really_ want to be apart of my family?_

I guess I'll find out the answers tomorrow.

When we pull up to the group home, I'm the first out of the car. I jog up to the door and knock vigorously two or three times. I'm met with Anne's warm smile a few seconds later. While my parents talk with her, I rush to Mitchie's room_. Second door on the left._

It's open already and she's gathering the last of her things, iPod, songbook, etcetera. "Knock, knock." I say, smiling profusely.

She looks up and meets my grin with one of her own. "Hi."

I sit next to the box on her bed, resting my arm on the edge of it. "You almost ready?" She meets my gaze and leans down, pressing her lips to mine. When she pulls away, I see the growing upturned corners of her mouth. She nods before slipping her sandals on. She looks gorgeous today, even if she's wearing a simple v-neck and jeans.

Mitchie reaches for her box, but I insist on carrying it out to the car. She thanks me and follows me out the door.

The thirty-minute ride back home felt like it couldn't get any longer. I wanted to get there as fast as possible and show Mitchie everything I had done for her. Luckily, we were almost at out destination. "As much as I liked Anne, I'm glad to be leaving that place." Mitchie tells me as she lay her head on my shoulder.

"Ugh. Tell me about it. I feel like _I_ lived there with you since I was there so often." She chuckles and my mom turns up the radio, both of my parents opting to sing and dance along... not that well, to say in the least. "Oh, Jesus." I say, smacking my forehead out of embarrassment.

"Don't stop, make it pop! DJ, blow my speakers up!" Mom serenades, bobbing her head and waving her hands around.

Dad now chimes in with the next line, "Tonight, I'ma fight, 'til we see the sunlight!" He started drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel, looking at Mom who starts back up.

"Tick tock, on the clock, but the party don't stop, no!" My mom moves her index finger around, indicating that they are the hands of a clock.

They both turn to each other singing, "Oh-ooh-oh-ooh-oh-oh! Oh-ooh-oh-ooh-oh-oh!" They continue to entertain while driving on the freeway.

"I love your parents. They're so funny!" Mitchie gushes, watching them with amused eyes. I can tell she's sincere with her comment. The way her eyes light up when my parents act like complete goofballs says it all. It took her awhile to warm up to them—much longer than to warm up to me—but once she realized they're nice people and really like her, I think it made things easier.

When we finally pull up to our house, Dad grabs her box while Mom unlocks the front door. Mitchie and I are in no rush—well, I _am_, but I hide it—to get through the door, we stand in front of the house a few extra minutes. "Well, this is it. Welcome to your new humble abode." I tell her equipped with a cheesy grin.

Rolling her eyes, she teases, "Mikayla. Now, I'm not sure if you knew this, but... I've been here before." She saunters down the pathway. I gazed at her backside and felt the need to moisten my dry lips. I didn't even notice that I was staring until I heard her calling my name. "Mikayla! You coming?" She was standing in the doorway wearing a confused look.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm coming."

I led Mitchie to her new room. Covering her eyes with one hand, I opened the door with the other. I remove my hand, but prompt her to keep her eyes closed. I shut the door and gently guide her hips to the center of the room. "Okay. You can open them." I whisper softly.

She exposes her chocolate-colored eyes and I catch a small gasp escaping from her lips. I feel like one of those hosts that are on those makeover shows like 'While You Were Out' or something. My nerves are booming, but the smile she graces me with calms them. When her orbs flicker to mine, I can already tell she loves it; that it's everything she could've asked for. She leans upwards until I can feel her lips on mine, slow and sweet-like. She breathes out, "Thank you," and brings her lips back to mine.

**This is short, I'm aware, but it's just like a 'Welcome Home' type chapter, not really dealing with much. I just wanted to update for you guys since it's been so long it feels like. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.  
Oh, and if you hadn't known, the song Mikayla's parents sing (who I just picture as Jerry and Theresa from WOWP) is Tik Tok by KeSha. I think the 'S' is a dollar sign or something, but it doesn't show up on here haha. Anyway, reviews? Thoughts? Suggestions? Thank you for reading(: **


	11. Chapter 11

**Oh my God, you guys! I swear, I have not had one _second_ alone. Family can be so suffocating sometimes... Anyway, I deeply apologize for this taking so long! I hope you like it!**

Just as our kiss begins to deepen, Mitchie's bedroom door swings open. We pull apart quickly as my parents gasp in shock. Mitchie looks as scared as she could possibly be; Mom looks incredibly dizzy; Dad's preparing to catch Mom if she faints; and _I_? I can only _imagine_ what my facial expression shows.

Mom's legs finally give out and Dad wraps his arms around her. "Uhh... I'll be right back, girls. I'm gonna go... lay her down, or... prop her up against something," He starts to _drag_ Mom out of the room when her head droops down and hits the door frame. We all grimace at the loud knocking noise. "We'll, uh... we'll keep that between us. Okay, girls?"

I confidently say, "Of course, Daddy. She'll never know."

He narrows his eyes at me, knowing I used 'Daddy' to lighten him up, just in case he's mad about walking in on us. Once he's gone, I pull Mitchie into a hug, attempting to soothe the frightened girl. "Wha—what if they kick me out? It's my first day here! I don't wanna leave."

I separate from her, just enough to rest my forehead against hers. Cupping her cheeks, "Hey, no. No, they wouldn't do that to you. I know my parents. They're good people and they absolutely _adore_ you, probably more than they do me," I say with a smile. She giggles and searches my eyes. "Trust me, Mitch. They won't kick you out. However, I'm not sure what they'll say about—"

Dad paces into the room, out of breath, panting, "Phew! If carrying your mother to bed di—didn't whip me into sh—shape, I not sure _anything_ will!" Dad chuckles at his joke, but suddenly turns serious. He asks us to sit on Mitchie's bed while he stands in front of us, hands in his hips. He's wearing his stern, I'm-about-to-give-a-lecture look. "All right, ladies. I'm pretty sure I know what's going on here. And I have to say—I'm okay with it." I could see Mitchie visibly relax.

"So... you're not going to send me back?" she asks hesitantly.

"What? No—of course not! Mitchie, you're apart of this family! You have been ever since you set foot in this house. C'mere." Dad embraces Mitchie gently. As I watch them, I feel a sudden warm, swelling feeling inside. They break apart, but keeps his hands on her shoulders, "Now, let's lay down some ground rules, shall we?" She nods, offering a small smile.

Dad continues to tell us that he's totally fine with Mitchie and I. It's actually really sweet. I've always been really close with my father, but I still wasn't sure how he would take it.

Finally, he starts 'laying down the ground rules.' They consist of: no sleeping in each others rooms, and the doors must stay open when we're together. I think they're a little much, but at least there's only _two_ rules and not _twenty_ like some of my old friends' parents' regulations.

Dad makes sure we comprehend everything before leaving and closing the door. It abruptly opens back up, "_Yeah, _I should _probably_ leave this open."

--

It's been about two weeks—technically, one week, four days—since Dad and Mom walked in on Mitchie and I. Dad stayed true to his word; Mitchie wasn't kicked out, and he's still totally okay with... whatever Mitchie and I are. Mom, however... well, that's a different story. She's pretty much in denial about it. It hurts to think that my own mother doesn't support me. Dad says she'll come around eventually.

On a happier note, today is Thanksgiving! Mitchie's helping out Mom in the kitchen, while I 'help' Dad with 'Thanksgiving stuff' in the living room; his words, not mine. What it _really_ means is that we're watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Dad loves it and it's my way of getting out of the kitchen—also known as: _Hell_. I'm a _horrible _cook. We found this out, a few years ago, when I burned the green-bean casserole so badly that the smoke alarms went off and the local firemen showed up. Mom was pretty pissed—we got fined for the false alarm.

I watched the man beside me grin and point animatedly at the bright television screen. He could be such a child sometimes; easily distracted by the littlest things. It's admirable. It makes me wonder...what if he weren't my father? What if _I_ were the one dumped off into some system and had total nightmares for foster parents? What if I didn't have such loving parents—even if Mom is a little delusional—I still love both of them all the same. And Mitchie—I'm so happy that we became friends. And maybe a little more than friends. Point is: I am so _beyond _grateful for these three wonderful people in my life.

--

"Oh, my _God_, you guys! I'm _so_ full! Seriously, I won't be eating until next week!" They all laugh at me, patting their full bellies along with me. Mom alone is a wonderful cook, but when you throw Mitchie in there, it just gets ten times better. Plus, they got to bond a little, which, you know, is a positive thing for everyone.

Mom starts clearing the table, Dad begins washing dishes. Mitchie and I excuse ourselves and head down the hallway. "I'm so tired," Mitchie says with droopy eyes as we reach her room. She plops onto her bed, shaking it momentarily, and I follow suit. She giggles and I intently flop down harder, giving the bed a longer rumble. "How did I get so lucky? I know it's such a cliché question, but I honestly think about that often," she shifts so that she's closer to me, our shoulders bumping, foreheads resting against the other. "Like, you're pretty much my very own superhero, Mikayla. You saved me from a life of abuse and loneliness. I could never thank you, nor your parents, enough for that."

Her eyes gloss and I say, "Just you being here, safe, that's rewarding in itself. You don't have to thank us, because we're _more_ than happy to have you as a new addition."

She simply nods, sweetly pecking my lips.

--

I'm awoken when I feel a blanket being placed gently on Mitchie and I. We fell asleep on her bed, cuddling, and effectively breaking rule number one. But, at least rule number two is still in tact.

I can sense both of my parents in the room. Probably standing there watching us in that semi-creepy way that parents sometimes do.

"Look at our baby, she's growing up." I hear Mom speak softly.

"She sure is. Soon she won't be our baby anymore; she'll be a young lady, ready to tackle the world. At least she'll have love by her side." Dad adds just as quietly.

However, when Mom responds, I know the conversation takes a turn for the worse, "Yes, _we'll_ always be there for her."

"What? I was talking about Mitchie!" he whispers loudly. "It's clear that they love each other, whether _they've_ realized it or not."

Cue my stomach jumping to my throat. I mean, I love Mitchie, but I don't think I have the guts to tell her. It'd probably scare the shit out of her, as disgusting as that sounds. And besides, I'm not so sure she loves me back.

"They're not in love, Jerry! These girls are just friends. You're obviously mistaken."

Feeling uncomfortable from listening in, I slightly shuffled my feet.

"Let's go, you're going to wake them up." Dad whispers, ignoring Moms last comment.

The nausea was rising. I could hear them arguing out in the hall. They've been arguing 'secretly' since they found out. I won't have them fighting all the time. It wouldn't be right for Mitchie to have to hear it. I have to do something about this.

**Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Annnyyything? Thanks for reading! And thank you for the reviews! Hope you had a nice Thanksgiving! (:**


	12. Chapter 12

**Dear readers, you are all magnificent and I love each and every one of you. I apologize for the wait, but chapter 12 is ready to be read. Enjoy!**

First day back to school after Thanksgiving break has gone really well so far. Mr. Gregson finally graded all of the projects from the beginning of the year. Mitchie and I received an A and a _Fantastic job, girls!_. Though, Mitchie appeared a little flushed when he told us he was going to hang it on the wall. It was adorable.

Speaking of adorable, Mitchie is concentrating on what Mr. G is trying to explain about how twenty-twelve _is_ going to happen—because it's a year, obviously—but we aren't going to die of multiple natural disasters. Her brows are furrowed, focusing on the sudden outburst of, "We're all going to die, I know it!" She rolls her eyes, slightly shaking her head. I smirk when she catches me staring.

"You're so cute when you think our peers are idiots," I whisper as quietly as I can manage.

She blushes and turns her head back to Mr. G. Her hand slips under her desk and into my lap, delicately placing her hand atop mine.

--

"Stop! Give it back!" Mitchie giggles, attempting to reach over me and grab her Arizona Green Tea out of my raised hand. The hand that's she supporting herself with grasps my inner thigh—though she doesn't realize it—I flinch and she leans further into me and finally, I relinquish her tea and she grins in victory. "You better not have spilled any, either," she jokes, resting her head on my shoulder.

We watch the rest of the school talk and laugh, occasionally throwing things, in silence—just enjoying the moment away from our peers. We're at Mitchie's tree—apparently, it _does_ have her name on it—and it's ridiculously far from our next period, but she'd rather be over here than in the quad or field with everyone else. She likes her space. And, I guess... I don't really mind it, either.

Mitchie's head shoots up and I'm brought from my thoughts. She quirks an eyebrow, "Why're they coming over here?"

I shift my gaze to where she's looking.

Oh. My friends—or, what they _used_ to be. "Um... I have no idea."

They're probably going to chew me out because I've ditched them for Mitchie. We all just sort of... fell apart, I guess. When I would hang out with Mitchie, I wouldn't really talk to them because my attention was focused on her. Then, as hanging out with Mitchie became more frequent, hanging out with Miley, Lilly, and Oliver became _less_ frequent.

As they approached, I could tell Miley was relatively pissed; Lilly looked a little indifferent; and Oliver—well, he didn't know what the hell was going on. When in earshot, I started off with, "Hey, guys. What's up?"

Miley gave the 'Excuse Me?' look and then I _knew_ she was beyond being pissed. The girl was _livid_.

Lilly gave a small smile, but then glance at Miley and the smile diminished instantly. Oliver replied, oblivious to the fact that he wasn't supposed to be nice, "Hey, Mik! Who's your friend?" He ogled Mitchie, practically undressing her with his eyes. Bastard. Miley elbowed him in the side, indicating him to stop talking. He looked at her guiltily.

Miley had ways of charming people and making them like her, but she also had ways of making people do what she wanted, when she wanted, and how she wanted it done.

In other words, there's Sweet Miley—I love Sweet Miley—and then... there's Not-So-Sweet Miley—who _no_ one wants to encounter. Ever.

Right now, Miley is not being charming or endearing and I really don't want to deal with that. Not to mention, the death glare she's giving Mitchie is really pissing me off. She finally calls back the monsters she has for eyes and redirects them toward me.

"We need to talk to you. _Alone,_" she says, venom dripping off of every word.

Knowing that Miley will continue to stare until I talk with her, I stand up and brush myself off. Before stepping away with them, I tell Mitchie that I'll be right back. She just nods hesitantly. It's evident that she's afraid of Miley's controlling and blunt demeanor.

Once we're a safe distance away from Mitchie, Miley begins her rant, "Where the hell have you been? You haven't hung out with us in _months_, Mikayla. What the fuck?"

I roll my eyes and scanned Lilly's expression. She shrugs guiltily and states, "You have been a little M.I.A., Mik. I mean, you been hanging out with—"

Miley cuts her off, "That freak!"

Woah, woah, woah. What did she just say?! "I _know_ you didn't just call her that. She's a person, she has feelings, you know! And her name is Mitchie, okay? So, don't bring her into this, she did nothing wrong here," I sneer.

"Whatever," Miley says phlegmatically, "look, we want you back. We want our fourth amigo. Please," I eye her skeptically and she continues, "I'm sorry that we sort of separated, and we wanted to know if you wanted to hang out at my house on Saturday?"

Hmm... What about Mitchie?

"On two conditions," Miley nods vigorously, "One: you invite Mitchie too. And two: you have to _try_ and be nice to her. We're really close and I don't want you bullying her."

Miley's jaw goes slack, "Ugh, really? I have to invite her _and_ be nice?" I offer her a look of 'Take It Or Leave It' and she eventually gives in, "You're lucky I love you, because if it were anyone else, I'd say, '_Hell_ no.' and walk away."

I crack a smirk, knowing full well Miley would do exactly that. I pull the three of them in for a group hug, savor in the moment. "I love you guys. You know that right?"

"We'd never think otherwise, Mik," Lilly says softly.

Miley lead us back to Mitchie, where she was scribbling something into her notebook. She looked up through her bangs that fell in her face, and observed Miley silently. There she goes again, looking all adorable, and desperately making me want to kiss her.

"So, um... Mitchie, we—uh—_I _was wondering if," she glances around skeptically, "if you'd like to hang out with us this Saturday?" Mitchie's brown orbs meet mine, and I smile and nod my head encouragingly.

"Sure," she lets out in a small voice.

"Okay, great," Miley notes, "Do you need a ride or anything? I can come—"

I speak up, interrupting, "Actually, Miles, she'll be with me." That would've been really nice of Miley had Mitchie needed a ride. I guess Miley is serious about making this all work out.

"All right, well, I'll see you guys tomorrow," she says, giving a polite smile to Mitchie and loops her arm through Lilly's and Oliver's.

"Bye, Mik; Mitchie," Lilly breathes genuinely.

Oliver voices a simple, "Later, ladies."

Mitchie nods and I wave them off before sitting against the tree with her. She rests her head on my shoulder again and laces her fingers with mine. She gently traces shapes on my hand with her unoccupied fingers.

I knew she would be a little shy and uncomfortable at first, but I really hope she grows to like my friends and vice versa. She would make a great fifth member of our quadruplet group.

I'm a little anxious for Saturday to come, that's for sure.

**Woo. Surprise appearances! Haha. Anyway, thanks you for reading the last chapter—and of course, for the reviews too. You guys make me grin like an idiot (: Leave your thoughts if you'd like. I wouldn't be opposed to such things...**


	13. Chapter 13

**Guys, I'm a douche. I'm sorry it's taken almost four months to update. Thank you so much for sticking with me. Again, I suck and I'm so sorry for the lengthy wait.**

To be totally honest, I'm a little bit nervous about today. I mean, let's face it, Miley can be quite devious. I just hope she isn't planning to do anything stupid. Mitchie would be devastated if she humiliated her. Best friend or not, I would have to kick some serious Miley-ass.

I know, I'm making Miley sound like this horrible, insincere person, but she's not. Well, not _all_ the time. She can be so caring, and loving, and funny, and spontaneous, and...kind of clingy—but that's only because she had—has?—a crush on me. But it's nothing to be worried about. It's just an innocent infatuation, that's all.

Mom's letting me drive the car to Miley's; and I thank God for that because if something happens, I don't want us to be stuck waiting for a ride. "_Sure_," she had said when I asked, "_Have fun, girls. Tell the gang your dad and I said 'hello.'" _

As the thought fades, I hear a loud thump from Mitchie's room. I pad into her room, "You okay?" She looks up from the floor, her doe eyes surprised. I examine her situation: a desk drawer and and it's contents sprawled across the hardwood floors, Mitchie's hand still in its handle. I chuckle and she ducks her head, lightly blushing under my scrutiny.

Mitchie smiles and replies quietly, "Drawer was stuck." She holds up the drawer with confidence, "Got it." I laugh a little louder and begin to help her pick it all up.

Awhile later, after we've showered—separately, of course—and gotten dressed for the day, I check to see if Mitchie is ready to leave for Miley's. She hesitates, "I—what if they don't like me? I don't want you to lose your friendship with them just because of me, Mik." She grabs my hand, "It's not worth it."

Immediately, my free hand rushes to stroke her cheek slowly. I say, "What? You're worth everything, Mitchie, and so much more. You've got to stop putting yourself down. You're an amazing person and they'll love you—even Miley." Gently, I pull her toward me, our lips meeting in the middle. In that short moment, I almost forget why I was consoling her. Almost. I pull away after leaving a second, soft peck, and add, "Okay?"

She nods and I lead her to the car.

This is it. Day one of me hanging out with Mitchie _and_ the group. I grab the door knocker and give the door a few taps. While waiting, I give Mitchie's hand a light squeeze before the door opens.

Lilly stands there, grinning, "Hey, Mikayla," she says and pulls me into a hug.

"Hey, Lils."

"Hi, Mitchie," Lilly hugs Mitchie with one arm, not positive on what to do, but also not wanting to be rude, I'm sure. Mitchie offers a small smile and we follow Lilly into Miley's mansion. As my eyes scan the picture-clad walls and well-decorated rooms, memories flooded my mind and I finally realized _just how much _I missed my friends. "Miley and Oliver are out back. She says we should all go swimming."

"Oh—I guess we'll have to borrow some of Miley's suits. We didn't bring any," I say, shrugging it off.

Lilly looks at me apprehensively, "Um," she scratches the back of her head, "I need to talk to you guys for a second—privately." She glances around Miley's living room, and guides us to a nearby storage closet. Mitchie gives me a questioning look, but I shrugged my shoulders and continued into the small closet with her in tow.

"What's going on?"

Lilly reaches for the chain attached the lightbulb switch and yanks it, effectively turning on the lights. She puts on a serious face, "Miley—she's kind of planned the whole day." Well, it's a little weird, since Miley likes to go with the flow, but I'd say nothing to be alarmed about. Lilly procedes, "Everything we do, she's found _some_ way to sabotage Mitchie. Like, swimming. She knew you wouldn't come prepared so she set out bathing suits for the both of you. The red one that Mitchie is supposed to wear has itching powder all over it." Mitchie eyes become fearful, and I feel the weight in my stomach become heavy. The guilt. She shouldn't have to deal with this—with Miley's jealousy. Lilly places a hand on Mitchie's shoulder, causing her to jump slightly, but Lilly keeps her hand there and talks to her, "Don't worry, I've found ways to get around it and still have fun." She smiles to Mitchie and I.

"Thanks, Lils. I just know that after today, Miley will absolutely _love_ Mitchie. Right, Mitch?"

Suddenly, we hear Miley's voice, "Lilly? Are they here yet? Lilly! Where are you?"

Lilly curses under her breath, and we wait until we hear her walking up the stairs—calling out Lilly's name—until we exit the storage closet. "We're down here," she screams, her head tilted up toward the ceiling.

Miley comes rushing down the stairs, grinning madly. "Hey, you came," she exclaims when she finally reaches us. "On account of the occasion—a new member joining us—I've planned the _whole_ day and it's going to be fucking awesome. Isn't it, Lilly?" she questions, linking her tanned arm through Lilly's paler one.

Lilly throws a look to us, "Yeah, it'll definitely be something..."

**I'm sorry that it's so short, I just kind of wanted to get that out there before I actually start the crazy day with them. You guys deserved _something_, and I know the next chapter might take a little while to get out, so I presented you with this little filler-chapter-thingy. Hang in there.. School's almost out, then, I'll have all the time in the world to update! :D**


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